The Impervious
by thatweirdchicknextdoor
Summary: Sakura planning a wedding while in university. Insanity. For Tsunade? Impossible. She needs more coffee. And maybe an Itachi on the side. The human being, not the animal. That would be illegal. AU. Non-Massacre


**Hello! This will be a short multichapter fiction. I initially intended this to be a one-shot but I decided it could be digested better in chunks. I had this plot in my head for the longest time, it was originally with an OC. Since about fifth grade.**

**Anyways, I have been on this website for about three years now. Writing fanfiction for about two. I initially intended to improve my story writing skills because I was receiving poor marks in my writing (failing...). And as I improved, my reviews improved as well. Although I'm not as popular, I'm still proud that I am a fanfiction writer at fifteen. I started writing here at thirteen. Since then, my English grades have soared. **

**So thank you, and I will write a few more things in the future as summer rolls along. **

* * *

Dowsing the coffee into her system, Sakura knew she was on a roll. She clicked and clacked, simultaneously writing her essay and choosing the perfect bouquet for her bride. Her riding skirt didn't deter nor the comments saying lilac tweed was last year's thing. She thought the combination of lilac and gray were perfect. It balanced out the pastel pink of her hair, who could blame her?

She went still, and the spectators watched with fervor, spinning their heads in the opposite direction when she brought her head up. People had a difficult time with the pink hair. They just didn't understand. Most were too far to realize the reason she had put an end to her marathon was the abrupt amount of coffee she had left. The girl wanted more.

Taking a deep breathe, she fooled her body to believe that she needed a slight intermission. She stood, unstable and numb from the previous wiring of caffeine. The brisk quietus as the others surrounding her went silent made her suspicious. Nonetheless, it blew off as a coincidence in her thoughts. She felt too comforted in the shop to let her mind play tricks. When Sakura wanted naïvety, she got it. And with her extra-grand mocha suffocating in whipped cream, she celebrated hard work and nothing else.

The bells rang and the sudden giggle of waitresses caught the dissipating attention of the amateur planner. She smiled along with them as their stares went beyond her and the register.

"What's going on?"

The barista flinched and brought her attention back to Sakura, she leaned towards her, as if she were expelling a large secret. "Right behind you, there's this customer that comes here on occasion and he's…" She puckered her lips and sighed, a dreamy air surrounded the worker, "…Perfection."

Sakura turned around, her curiosity besting her. And she understood. Alabaster brow, aristocratic, angular were all words that began with 'a' and could describe his face. His long ebony hair reminded her of the best times she had at midnights- mostly savage. Long legs, a graceful intelligent posture…

"Good and all, but could I have a French vanilla cappuccino?" A shrewd tone came from the young planner. Of course, the lady with pink hair had still a few inappropriate thoughts, but there was work. The barista cringed and remembered that she too had a job.

Shaking her head, Sakura returned to her seat with a fresh coffee. It wasn't the time for her to find love anyways. The complications and extra scheduling she would have to make in order to break in a few dates had the potential of putting her in an asylum next to serial killers. There were days where she thought of killing the bride. And they were just beginning. As she recollected, Sakura couldn't help but take a few glances of the man who coincidentally lounged across from her. A faint smile driven by hormonal reaction kept her appearance pleasant and approachable. The joys of human behavior, she never really cared for those juvenile reactions. Despite that, she still had to deal with it.

When Sakura began to write a new paragraph, she couldn't help but look up from her screen. In fact, it became more and more often as she continued. Finish a sentence. Look up. Five words. Look up. A word. Look up. A letter. Look up.

Indeed, the audience partook in enthusiastically viewing just how curious the young woman could be. Her incessant naivety would never let her realize that people watched him and her. Of course, people continued to observe whether he had shown any interest. Of course, such a man whom listened to the background chatter and sipped leisurely on his what everyone predicted to be an extra-dark Swedish roast would have no interest in a girl like that.

By closing, those who bet that they would have any verbal contact had to give up their wagers. She had her brief moments, and he had glanced in her general direction, but nothing really happened. The spectators truly believed that Sakura Haruno would provide entertainment once more.

_The next week:_

This time, there was a dynamic change in Sakura's clothing. She wore sweatpants to the same little bourgeoisie styled coffee shop. If individuals asked, they would understand that she just had a final. A final in a subject she had no interest in but still had to take. And as usual, she had invitations to decorate. With her laptop in arms, she searched for a spot. This time, instead of the last week's middle which also acted unknowingly as a fishbowl, she took a corner. A cozy one.

Her limber fingers moved across the keyboard, and all of a sudden, she came to a halt. Almost as if she were battered, she discovered a whole new page of fonts. Carefully, she analyzed the variety down to each pixel.

"Excuse me."

She took a moment, as if her eyes were adhered to the screen, she struggled to lose her initial focus.

She scoffed, annoyed, "Yes?" Looking up to see that same man whom the employees were going gaga from. He too, just like her, took a more casual approach to his attire compared to the last outing. A dark T-shirt suited his ivory skin and contrasted, and he wore cargo pants. It showed a medium build, which happened to be very toned.

Of course, in that moment she completely changed her conduct. She laughed sheepishly and attempted to clear her thoughts. Most of them involved putting him on a pedestal. What they did on that pedestal was only for her discretion.

"I believe you're sitting in my spot."

Light when to dark without proper transition. Handsome or not, she didn't care. There were plenty of other spots in the café, why couldn't he take to somewhere else? Right then, she immediately assumed that this man had a corrupted, narcissistic personality whom believed he could have the right to control everybody. She returned to her snarky mood, "Well, I don't see your name on this table."

"Actually," he picked up a partially full mug of coffee from the very table Sakura sat at, she completely ignored it the first time, "it kind of does."

He twisted it around to show neatly written calligraphy reading 'Itachi'. Each coffee cup had their customer's names written carefully. She must've fallen to a new low, possibly an illness. With a foot in her mouth, she couldn't believe it.

"I apologize," she stood up, closing her laptop and putting things away in her large bag, "I just had a final." She joked around, mimicking the explosion of her head.

"It's alright." He reached out to help her gather her things. When everything was set in place, she threw her bag over her shoulder and chose a spot furthest from him. And he watched, concerned for her well-being. Sakura never glanced back. Her embarrassment got the best of her.

_The Fitting: _

She dreaded this day. The day Sakura had to attend the dress fittings. That day, her job was to sit and comfort. She could do that. But she just didn't want to see Tsunade's perfect silhouette in a multitude of gowns and listen to her complaints. Even her best friend, Orochimaru was reluctant to go. After hours of convincing, he finally booted his 'illness' in order to support Sakura and the bridesmaid in the darkest of hours.

"No cleavage."

"I look fat!"

"This makes me look older!"

"Too white!"

"Not white enough!"

"It's perfect!"

Sakura woke up from her little daydream after hearing the sound of those two words. The two sandwiched beside her on the small leather futon relaxed. She examined the bell bottom gown and its fitted bodice. After a while, all the gowns seemed to fit and look the same way. She didn't understand why Tsunade finally decided on that one and not the others. Until, that is, she saw the price tag.

"Orochimaru," Sakura began. He slowly brought his ear towards her as she kept her voice hushed, "Does she know that the dress is about the budget of her entire wedding?"

He brought his index finger to her lips. She understood. Though, it wasn't without a placidly sarcastic glare. Tsunade's love for the lavish had raised a few concerns.

Tsunade looked at the tag, awkwardly reaching down, feeling her buttocks, "Sakura, this dress is expensive…" Sakura rolled her eyes, listening to her childish tone, "Have you already booked the venue and ordered the decorations?"

She nodded, and then quickly raised a brow.

"Well… Just cancel the orders and find cheaper alternatives."

Right then, Sakura felt her hand taken in by a cold but nonetheless welcoming one. Orochimaru gave a look of sympathy.

It took her weeks of bargaining with the reverend to have the wedding at a certain time for a certain price. The flowers were already on their way, all paid for. The bakery had written down all the tedious details of the overly expensive cake, and Sakura paid them up front. The wedding was a month away, it was too late. How could she explain such troubles to the bull-headed, blushing bride?

"Are you sure? I've already ordered and paid for everything." She decided to take the lighter, interrogative way.

"The wedding can be postponed." She simply retorted, twirling around in her much too expensive gown.

Orochimaru snorted softly, he shook his head when Tsunade had her head in the opposite direction.

"But Jiraya can only lay off work until then."

"Doesn't matter." Her haughty glow was far too strong for Sakura to break. Orochimaru seconded it with a pat on her back.

And just like that, seven months of planning went down the drain.

…

She slumped and rested her head in the bar at the café. Her visits became far more often with varying reasons. Her dark attire may have given those the idea that she may have just been to a funeral. In reality: she had been yelled at by a baker, a florist, a seamstress, a few older women, a stripper, and a child. No, she did not take his candy. In actuality- Sakura didn't really recall what she did to him.

"Here you are, a mocha loaded with Kahlua." The bartender's curly hair and gracious expression gave her hope that there were some friendly people in this world.

"Thank you." She took a few deliberate sips, waiting for the drink to calm.

"Seems like you've run into some trouble?" The bartender swiftly maneuvered the dirty glasses and polished the clean ones, bringing them together in a setting that met aesthetics.

"A little." Her voice wavered, as she was on the urge of tearing up.

"Since you're the last customer, the next couple drinks are on the house. That's all I can really do, I apparently have horrible communication skills and I tend to make matters worse. If my cousin was here, he'd know what to do. There is a reason he's the owner of this place." He babbled on about his faults, occasionally throwing in the random self-deprecation joke.

"It's alright."

"No it's not, you look even worse after I said that. My wife-"

Almost as if he were a catalyst to an explosion, the bartender set off a delicate switch inside the emotional stability of the girl.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, are you married?"

She attempted to answer verbally through sobs. It failed. Sakura shook her head and cleared her throat for her next sentence.

"Weddings are stupid!" She downed the now warm liquor in one go. The bartender cringed as he swept a hand through his curly locks and closed his dark eyes. He palmed his flat face, rethinking his ideas.

"I'll get you something stronger."

"Please."

The bells of the entrance rang, and the bartender spat a slew of unintelligible curse words. Something Sakura couldn't decipher but quickly inferred that it had something to do with the new customer. She attempted to compose herself, straightening up and hiding her face.

The bartender's gaze went to the entrance, slightly content. "Itachi, could you use the back entrance next time? You scared me."

"Shisui, when does the bar close on Mondays?" His pleasant tenor brought a slight smile to Sakura. Then, another part of her rose and forced the seat situation in her current thoughts. It became implanted, and she sighed softly, attempted to deter her mind and focus on the liquor exposed in front of her. It turns out the workers were checking out their boss.

Shisui laughed nervously, "Eleven…"

"And what time is it now?"

"Eleven-thirty…"

"And why haven't you closed?"

"Uh…" He pointed slightly in Sakura's general direction.

Itachi froze for a moment, attempting to collect any clues as to why Sakura was there. Despite having straightened her posture, it was still harrowing.

"I'll handle it, go home."

"Thanks lil' cousin." Shisui's perpetual reminder of who was eldest did annoy, but it in that case, it lightened the mood.

Shisui scurried out, keeping eye on his watch. Sakura fiddled through the belongings of her bag, looking for cash. She sighed, taking a wad of cash. She planted both her feet on the ground from her stool, and stood for a moment, collecting herself.

"I apologize for holding you up, thank you for the service." She sped through the café, going towards the exit.

"Excuse me, but I don't have customers leave unhappy. Ever."

"Your service met expectations and beyond. There's a reason why I'm a regular."

He settled in a futon with a dubious expression. She became apprehensive. The stress had already made her nimble, svelte shoulders cave into her posture.

"You got my bartender so worked up, he is on the verge of tears."

Although she was never meant to show weakness, she caved in to the tempting male.

"Fine." Her long strides showed a reluctant intention, and he knew this himself.

She placed herself at the edge of the futon, the furthest she could stay away from him under those circumstances.

Itachi let out a breathe, "I don't know your name."

"Sakura."

"Itachi." He held out a hand.

"I know." She didn't shake it.

She became a little more difficult. But Itachi had much patience to burn.

"Well, I've never seen Shisui so flustered, what did you do?"

"I didn't have the best of days."

"Elaborate."

"Why should I?"

"You'll never be allowed here again."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Depends, are you going to be in a better mood when you come here tomorrow?"

"Who says I'll be coming back here?"

She glared, angry, glassy balls of jade attempted to clash with solid coal. The man was impossible to read and understand, except for the good intentions. But were there? He seemed more like the devil's advocate in the suit he wore. In fact, in her pencil skirt and blouse, it seemed more like an episode of Mad Men. And despite this scene, she would never take her blouse off. Even inebriated.

"You will."

"I can find your mochas elsewhere."

"You sure?"

She stopped to think for a moment, realising there were no other places of such quality and price.

"Damn it."

"I don't allow miserable customers."

"Gives you no right to make me open up."

"I can do this all night."

"I'd like to see you try." The easiest thing she could've done was get up and leave, ending the entire therapy session. However, something else glued her to the seat, and the wall between them slowly crumbled down. Partially because she had been slightly drunk- to the point where she couldn't drive herself home.

He smiled half-heartedly, "I have a younger brother."

She crossed her arms and sank into her end, throwing nothing back to his retort.

"I'll make some peppermint tea, you need to sober up."

He shut the lounge lights off, letting only the kitchen light be their guide. Sakura felt as if she were fourteen again, defiant and opinionated. She felt the urge to tear apart the futon. The white leather reminded her too much of Tsunade's wedding dress.

That refreshed her memory: She was going to have to be the one notifying Jiraya that he won't get married until later. That was the last thing on her to do list. She could imagine as soon as he'd receive the news, he and Tsunade would get into an argument and call off the entire middle-aged relationship. Next thing you'd know, Tsunade would come and knock on either her assistant's door or Sakura's, asking for a place of retreat. Then she'd sleep there for months, then years. And she'd get so drunk and loud that Sakura would never get any dissertation done. Every night. And then Sakura would fail her courses, jobless and with a ton of debt in her pocket, all because of some stupid dress.

She prayed that Jiraya loved Tsunade- including the faults. The old pervert was always a bachelor, so why not wait another year? After all, he displayed only sincerity towards her employer.

"Here you go," Sakura gasped as he woke her from the reverie, and she watched him place the steaming cup on the coffee table in the low light.

"Thanks."

"You seem to have calmed."

"Yeah."

"Care to explain now?"

He sat further than before, making her feel guilty. She inched towards the middle, if he asked, it was because she would falter off the edge. It took a while to form the correct explanation, alcohol added to mental torpor never proved to be a good combination.

"Well…" She began, "There was supposed to be a wedding a in a month…" She stopped, forgetting how to finish this story without revealing too much.

"Uh…"

"It's not my wedding. I'm planning it." She quickly corrected.

"Ah. I take it this isn't going to plan? The wedding is cancelled?"

"No, the bride blew her budget on her own hedonistic pleasures. The date's been pushed forward, and everything I ordered had to be cancelled because the budget doesn't fit those things anymore."

"Are you professional wedding planner?"

She snapped her fingers, "Nope, university student." Her smile was sarcastic but her shoulders revealed the weight and fatigue drooping down with tears coming out in masses.

"Why did I agree to this?"

Then she remembered.

_Roughly seven or eight months ago:_

"Sakura!" Tsunade came running towards her. The elder woman's chest bounced with each step. Her blond hair stuck out of the messy braids.

"Yes auntie?"

"Ahem." Tsunade's hands grasped her own tiny waist and she raised a brow.

Her eyes went wide from realization, "Uh- I mean professor."

Tsunade stuck her speciously youthful hand, moving the fingers to help the giant princess cut diamond effortlessly catch light.

"J-Jiraya proposed!" Sakura shakily brought her stiff palms to her cheeks. She took a moment before hugging her aunt.

Tsunade broke the hug in excitement. Her honey gaze happily analyzed Sakura's tired jade ones, "And I want you to plan the wedding!"

"What?" Their excitement halted for a moment. Then, Sakura quickly changed facial expressions, "I mean…" Tsunade snorted. Sakura felt provoked to furrow her brow, "Sure! This will be the best wedding ever!"

_Four months from then:_

"Sakura, your research is shallow, the writing is shallow, and the only terms you used weren't even medical. They were… decorative?" The psychology professor, Kakashi had gave her a placid glare through his one uncovered eye.

"Uh…" She doubted the fact he would find any interest in the wedding. She had spent the week ordering, bargaining, and choosing. Like he would take any interest in her affairs.

"Uh… Sakura, you're failing this class. You're a scholarship student!"

…

"… "Sure, this will be the best wedding ever!" Why did I say that? Am I fourteen again?" A box of tissues suiting the blue-gray palette of the café suddenly appeared in front of her. She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. She feared she may have had similarities to an elephant in front of the eloquent man.

"Well, clearly she's someone you hold dear…" He sighed, loosening the collar of his dress shirt, "I remember when my younger brother got married. I thought his fiancé was the biggest imbecile. I've changed that thought but according to the rest of my family, she still is, a consensus based on the obsession of politics. My mother had decided to ruin the wedding, and it did work to some extent."

Sakura sat there, shocked, "What did she do?"

"All sorts of things, from purposefully switching the bride's weight loss pills to ripping the train of the dress."

The story made her take a note in her head. Watch for traitors, and… Don't become one.

"All the tampering had the couple postpone the wedding for a couple months, and somehow, the planner stuck through the entire thing… Even after the fights and my crazy mother begging the guy to stop being so impervious towards her little stunts."

Sakura took a sip of peppermint tea. It cooled off a bit, giving an even cooler sensation on the tongue. Normally, the peppermint tea she had was so herbal and watered down. It stayed sharp and somewhat sweet, it actually freshened ones breathe.

"This tea is delicious… Who was this wedding planner?"

"Thank you." He smiled sincerely, "He does weddings professionally, and he has a way of radically changing ones attitude. For an idiot, I respect him quite a bit."

"Does he live in Konoha?"

"I'll give you his card."

"It's alright… He sounds like he had diligence. But I doubt he could even handle my bridezilla." She felt she lacked diligence, and she had a paper due the next week. The invitations still had to be revoked and she had to call Jiraya. From anxiety, fear, and stress, soft sobs came out of her. The pressure on her shoulders brought her entire body down. He brought his arms out to catch her. It calmed her just a bit. They automatically pulled closer.

Her rolling sobs stopped as she realized she was in a man's arms. She was stomach down, face facing his knees, her hands covering. She only had realized when she maneuvered her fingers. Sakura couldn't believe it. She was actually seeking comfort from the opposite sex. When the blood rushed down from her visage, she uncovered herself and lifted her upper half. Porcelain skin contrasted against irritated eyes. The red brought out the green hues. As if her hair couldn't do that anyways.

"Uh…" One arm went between his knees as she supported herself. Before she could recall, they made eye contact. When her best friend mentioned that the brain was the strongest sexual organ, she wasn't kidding. The tension she didn't feel before crept on to her full scale. Her pale cheeks gave a peachy glow, something he couldn't see anyways with the lights being out. He was facing the light anyways, and she got a good look at him.

He seemed stressed, deep, dark bags which contrasted against his naturally pale skin. His features were strangely feminine, long dark lashes, high cheekbones, and thin eyebrows. It was his cheek bones and jaw that gave a dominate look and differed him from women.

She thought she could lean in just a little more to examine him further. When she became conscious that it could provoke a kiss, she lowered her head and went for his shoulders. She sighed into him, and he seemed to cautiously keep his hand on her waist- Frozen and slightly shocked. He felt her relax. He let go, and she passed out, flopping down like a ragdoll.

He watched her sleeping face for a moment, contemplating. She seemed to not have any sleep for a while. In all honesty, something in him wanted to rest with her. However that, he had just met her properly that evening, there would something too creepy to just sleep by her side. Especially on such a small futon with such a tiny woman.

_Morning:_

The soft morning sun interrupted her sleep. It was decided she had to wake. Soft leather adhered to her dampened skin from sweat. A sharp stab in the head assaulted her and she had felt the hangover go to her system. Quickly, she recollected the events from the last night. Smitten and nervous, she lifted her upper body to hear a sliver of paper fall to the ground.

She quickly retrieved it, examined the empty café, and scurried out of the shop. Her hangover was quickly ignored as she read the note on the paper:

_Sakura,_

_Meet me at the café Saturday night._

_And I really do suggest calling this number:_

_193-2942-231_

_Even if you won't let him plan, I am sure he will have advice suited to your needs._

_-Itachi_


End file.
